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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261944">The sun drifts and lingers before it sets</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegmund_Swinsere/pseuds/Daegmund_Swinsere'>Daegmund_Swinsere</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works &amp; Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, M/M, and not knowing, distance:emotional or otherwise, dramatic for the sake of it, more an exploration of Thingol honestly, the terrible agony of not being known</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:27:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261944</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegmund_Swinsere/pseuds/Daegmund_Swinsere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lonely and disconnected, Thingol reflects on the great love of his life that never was: Tuor.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elu Thingol | Elwë Singollo/Melian, Elu Thingol | Elwë Singollo/Tuor, Idril Celebrindal/Tuor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The sun drifts and lingers before it sets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Possibly set in an AU where Thingol cares less about shiny jewelry, so he is not killed in 502 F.A. nor is there a Second Kinslaying. At least, not until much later.<br/>This would have massive repercussions but all we care about is that Thingol can meet Tuor after the fall of Gondolin in 510 F.A.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My life goes on, time expands and makes all that I love further and further away.</p><p>My brothers are across the sea, with most of my kindred and people. Of those that searched for me, few now remain and fewer still from the days of Cuiviénen.</p><p>I lost my daughter to a Man. She loved him and chose death for him, leaving me. I abhorred him because I loved her, and came to not hate him because she loved him. All that is left of them is their son who dwells by the Blue Mountains.</p><p>I fostered another Man and I grew fond of him. Agaisnt my heart I had to banish him. When there was proof of his innocence and that I had done him wrong, he did not come back. It was too late. By then, how could I tell him that he was a son to me? But it was only me who ever considered myself like his father.</p><p>Melian stays beside me always. Am I trapping her here in Ëa, and is she trapping me here in Beleriand? What are we? She goes beyond my understanding. She is the forest and the fragrant trance and the birds singing, and the shadows hiding beneath the trees, and the hemlock and briar growing. She is a spirit wearing flesh and blood to be with me, dwelling in this world but she is not of it: her enchantments shape and twist it to her whims. She is energy and power and music. We have spent unmeasurable time together, yet I hardly know who and what she is. My mind to her must have no secrets, while I only see a fragment through the fog, grasping it to love. Life with her is a dream, a daze and reality falling apart into a continuous present.</p><p>One day, a Man like I had never seen before arrived in the March of Doriath. Behind him were elves, some wounded and lamenting. But he was calm, steady, with a quiet strenght that was followed by those around him. His frame was like Túrin, tall and strong, and his hair were blond like Nienor. Clearly, he was both of the House of Bëor and Hador. Using this lineage, he asked of me to shelter them for a while. Those Noldor had partook in the kinslaying at Alqualondë, but they were broken from the fall of their city and he was a kinsman of Beren and Túrin. Had it been anyone else, I would have not let them in, but somehow I could not find it in me to refuse him.</p><p>The brevity of Men can make them terrible and make them noble. Tuor was the latter. Among all people I have ever met, there has been none like him nor will they ever be. There was a light to him that was warm and believed in this world. He gave his love to all with generosity and kindness, and they loved him for it. Whether it was smiling, playing with Eärendil, or sparring with Mablung, he put all of his heart into it. All my centuries of drifting unaware seemed like nothing compared to his bright life.</p><p>Yet, I sensed a sadness in him. There was a melancholy that lingered in his eyes, like the waves over the sea. It pained me to look at those eyes, resting on Idril but gazing far beyond. My very being was panged with sorrow when I could see that his body was beside her but that his mind was wandering somewhere remote. Could he not help but see her residing high above him, no matter the grace of Ulmo had bestwoded upon him and all that she would say and do? Could she understand what a sacred mystery she was to him? Idril, grandaughter of Finwë, scion of the Noldor and the Vanyar, born in the blessed land, where I imagine she would have known the Holy Ones in her childhood. He admired her and the elves.</p><p>I remember the awe on his face when he roamed the thousands halls of Menegroth. His head moved in all directions, towards a certain pillar or rippling fountain, and his legs would follow. A few time I had offered to be his guide but walking beside him was more like following a butterfly. Fascinated, he would marvel at the carving of flowers out of gems or how lights gleamed in colours from the hanging lanterns. He made me see again the beauty of the city that had become the dull maze of my brain, after pacing it for so long lost in my thoughts. His amazement to the wonders made him candid and cordial, asking questions as he pleased but he still was more reserved around me than with others. I do think it was not out of dislike, like it has been many times, but more of a distance borne out of the respect for a king and one of the First Born. It is horrible wishful thinking to fancy he was ever bashful in my presence. No, it is that I live beside others, not amongst them; we existed in two different worlds that occupied the same space for a short while.</p><p>Sometimes, I wish I had told him how I admired and empathised with him. But I could not. He would have surely found it odd and wrong that I, out of all people, felt a connection towards him. People would have laughed, and saw it as nothing more than a joke. They would have never understood how Elu Thingol could have become so infatuated with a Man. And our wives, his children, my grandson... Alas! He left and sailed into the West. Does he live? Did he die? It is not for me to know or care, yet I cannot stop my heart from longing for those fleeting days when I could see his golden hair glimmering in the sun.</p><p>The night is dark in Doriath.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This begun after discussing the possibility of Finwe/Thingol and me mispelling Indis as Idril on our amazing discord server of unnumbered tears... and this happened<br/>I would like to thank my beta, Moryo, and my discord in general for making 2020 better than what it is for me<br/>I've been told it's even worse than Thingol/Maedhros but 'Thingol/Tuor &gt; Thingol/Maedhros' is somehow the hill I find myself willing to die on?<br/>Don't get me wrong, both are fairly terrible, but it's explorative and transformative work ;D<br/>To be honest, I don't read fanfics much at all but I'm glad to contribute<br/>Thingol and Tuor = marrying upward</p></blockquote></div></div>
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